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Solo Shots	By : DrunkenScotsman Category: X-men Comics > AU - Alternate Universe Views: 5554 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own the X-Men, nor do I own the rights to either X-Men: Legends or X-Men Legends 2: The Rise of Apocalypse. I'm affiliated with neither Marvel nor Activision. I make no money writing this entry.

Chapter List
- 7
- 8
- 9
Chapter 8: Queen Forked
- Warnings: SoloF, Toys, M/M/F (implied)

Fresh from the shower, Emma Frost dried herself in her guest quarters. The White Queen smirked, appreciative of the hospitality the X-Men showed to her despite their palpable distaste for her usual methods. They recognized that they needed her talents to monitor Professor Xavier’s consciousness in the Astral Plane, and they’d been unfailingly polite so far. Her case was, admittedly, bolstered by the fact that Xavier himself had requested her assistance on the original jaunt to locate the psyche of Colossus’ sister Illyana. Regardless, the X-Men had maintained an air of professionalism towards her, and she certainly respected them for it.
Emma sighed. Unfortunately, professionalism doesn’t translate into having one of the X-Studs warm my bed, she reflected despondently. She hated spending a night alone, especially with so many scrumptious men around, but all the ones she wanted to bed were already taken. Briefly she imagined them standing naked in front of her, on display for her admiration: Remy LeBeau, Piotr Rasputin, and especially Scott Summers. All three appealed to her, with their broad chests, washboard abs, and light cover of hair in all the right places; it was Summers, though, that really got her motor running. The trickle of her arousal down her inner thighs proved just how much she needed some action tonight.
Sorry you can’t join me, boys, she purred to their images, but I guess I’m keeping all the fun to myself tonight. Remy and Piotr faded, but Scott remained. Pity, she added, stretching her thoughts to caress the actual Scott’s mind, we could have so much fun together, you and I.
To her surprise, she felt her tenuous link to the object of her desire suddenly severed. Excuse me, Emma, came the terse psychic voice of Jean Grey, but keep your brains to yourself.
Sorry, darling, Emma replied, not sorry at all, I must have been projecting inadvertently. It won’t happen again.
Jean’s irritation couldn’t have been more obvious: Good. I’ll pretend this never happened. She cut the telepathic conversation there.
Emma snorted, thinking of how she could exact a measure of revenge on the redhead. Tossing her towel aside, she rummaged through her duffel bag, seeking her favorite toy, one which she never went without, if she could help it. I hope she keeps listening, she mused, or maybe I’ll project. Either way, that bitch will know not to cross the White Queen.
Emma paused, listening to what she’d just thought. She ran a hand through her hair, kicking herself for slipping back into the mindset that had served her well while in the Hellfire Club; what she often struggled to remember was that such a mindset brought mostly heartache to would-be “heroes” (such as she considered herself these days). Emma decided that she’d crossed a line, and that Jean had been right to warn her off. Closing her eyes in contrition, she ‘hailed’ her ginger counterpart.
Jean sighed mentally. What is it, Emma?
Emma took a deep breath. I want to apologize for my actions just now. They were inappropriate for a guest in what is your house.
Stunned silence ensued. Emma couldn’t help but smile, imagining Jean’s expression. Thank you, Emma, finally came the reply, tinted with the emotional flavors of confusion and relief. I appreciate and accept your apology. I, ah, suppose I can’t hold it against you that you find my husband attractive. Jean’s tone shifted to bemused and conciliatory.
He is just delectable, isn’t he? Emma added with a girlish giggle. I’m jealous, darling; you’re a lucky, lucky woman to have him. Her arousal remained as strong as ever, and she couldn't entirely keep a lid on it.
Jean responded simply: He is a good man, Emma. You’re projecting again.
Right, sorry, Emma replied, meaning it this time. You enjoy your man; I’ll just fend for myself. A thought occurred to her, which she ‘voiced’: May I at least fantasize about Scott? I promise to, ah, keep it quiet, so to speak.
Emma could sense Jean’s hesitation. Finally, she answered, Fine, but I’ll hold you to it. Have fun! Again, it was Jean who broke contact.
A brief caress of her hairless snatch coated Emma’s fingers with her juices, demonstrating to her that she still craved attention down there. She smeared the liquid onto her large, pink nipples and smiled when they immediately stood to full attention. Fortunately, the surgeon who’d augmented her from a C-cup to a D on her 18th birthday had left only the insertion scars near her underarms as evidence of her work – as opposed to severing any nerves and leaving her breasts insensate – for which she’d been appropriately grateful. Emma thought her breasts much sexier now than they could ever have been otherwise and considered her implants the best investment she’d ever made.
The blonde vixen retrieved her toy from her bag and knelt on her bed. Pale blue, almost translucent, her toy resembled nothing so much as a horseshoe with spherical knobs at the tips. Emma moved one of the knobs against her snatch, a soft whimper of enjoyment coming from her open mouth. A truly wicked idea for a fantasy crossed her mind, and the reformed villainess decided to pursue it:
< She stands naked in the office of Charles Xavier, waiting. When he wheels himself in, she smiles and greets him unabashed: “Hello, Charles, my sweet. I hope you like what you see.” From the way he looks her up and down, from the bulge forming in his trousers, she knows he does.
She leans down to murmur in his ear, “I know how lonely you are, Charles. Always thinking of others, you never take time for yourself. Let me help you unwind.” While seducing with her words, she unfastens the trousers and extracts his member. She maps it with her hand.
“I knew you weren’t paraplegic, merely having injured your legs beyond repair.” She nibbled his ear and climbed into his chair. To her surprise, he grips her ass pushes her downward, impaling her on his pole. In response, she shoves his face into her cleavage. >
Mimicking her fantasy, Emma slid herself down on one end of her toy, the rounded tip sliding effortlessly into her. An open-mouthed grin on her face, her head thrown back, she luxuriated in the waves of pleasure coursing through her body. Her hips began gyrating of their own accord, forcing her to hold her toy in place so she could establish a rhythm for riding. Her breasts bounced in time with her.
< She sets the pace, rising up and gliding down on his pole steadily, allowing them both to savor one another at leisure. “Ohhhhh, Charles,” she coos to him, “we both needed this, didn’t we?” Her fingertips rake down his bald pate, making light impressions in the scalp en route to his neck. “I guess you know how long I’ve wanted this,” she admits. “You always could find the chink in my diamond shell.” >
Emma gasped, unable to believe where her fantasy was leading, unable to believe that she, jaded cynic that she was, could blush at her own thoughts. Lost in her revelation, lost in her revelry, lost in her reverie, she groaned aloud: “Unnnngghhh… nnnhhh… ooh ohhh ohhhhhhh… yes… unh… unh, yeah… uh-huh… Charles… so good… yes… unh-unh… unngh… nnnnnh… make me climax, Charles… ooh yeah… make me cum!” With both hands she held her toy steady, while her hips increased speed.
Hunching forward signaled the start of her release. Her lips emitted whimpers of pleasure. Her snatch spasmed wildly around her toy. In her imagination she was milking every last drop of semen from her partner.
Emma, however, was far too horny to be satisfied with just one orgasm. Besides, she reminded herself as she caught her breath, I still need to have my fun with Scott. She pulled the dildo out of her and returned to her duffel, again seeking something to enhance her sexual pleasure. To keep herself ‘warmed up’ while she searched, she rubbed the tip of the plastic phallus against her clit.
From the bag she retrieved her tube of silicone-based anal lubricant, nibbling her lip in anticipation. To free her hand to apply the slippery substance, ever-practical Emma reinserted the toy and clenched the appropriate muscles. She placed a dollop of gel onto her fingers and reached behind her to lubricate her backdoor. Shivering on contact, her sultriest smile crept across her face as her imagination once more took over.
< A pair of strong hands fondles her ass, spreading the cheeks apart. She knows they don’t belong to Charles, whose hands knead her breasts; she senses form the man behind her an alluring confidence, an intoxicating self-assurance, that could only belong to one man. Craning her head, she winks and waggles her eyebrows. “Care to join in, Scott?”
He nips her neck and murmurs, “How could I resist? Don’t stop on my account.” She resumes riding Charles’ still-stiff prick.
Scott surprises her when he teases her anus with his thumb. “What are you waiting for?” she moans for him, the other man who can always penetrate her diamond shell. >
Now properly lubed, Emma pulled her toy out of her snatch once more, gasping at the squelch that accompanied the motion. Panting with unbridled desire, she wasted no time rotating her double-dildo so that the previously-unused half rested in her gluteal cleavage. Quickly she reinserted the vaginal end; more slowly and carefully she penetrated her rear, unable to contain her throaty grunt as the toy’s globular tip burrowed into her.
< She grunts and groans in response to Scott shoving his cock deep into her ass. Delighted at having not one, but two, handsome, amazing men such as these all to herself, she begs, “Take me, Scott; take me, Charles. I’m all yours.” Her back arches when Charles suckles her breast while both men thrust their perfectly-sized pricks into her willing body. Effortlessly they synchronize to a concurrent pattern: both are in, then out, then in again.
“It feels incredible!” she cries. >
“It feels incredible!” Emma cried aloud. The blonde vixen was holding the curve of the toy for stability and had resumed her method of bouncing up and down. The twin tips pistoned back and forth, back and forth, back and forth in her soaked snatch and oiled-up ass. A back corner of her brain – that is, one not addled by lust – wondered about Scott Summers’ potential reaction to her fantasy of him reaming her. Briefly she considered sharing, just to see his face; but she swiftly decided it might bring down the red-headed wrath she’d only narrowly avoided earlier.
Like before, she hunched forward at the inception of orgasm. Her noises began as mewling but soon progressed to full-throated moans. Both sets of muscles, vaginal and rectal, clamped around the shafts buried within them. Emma’s fantasy faded as her snatch received a second dose of cum from Charles while Scott filled her rear with its first supply.
Emma knelt by her duffel bag, hunched forward from her climax, for at least five minutes, breasts heaving as she gasped for air. Once she could move again, she put the bottle of artificial lube (which she’d dropped) back into the bag and gingerly removed her two-pronged toy. Fatigue threatened to overwhelm her, but she willed herself to the bathroom to clean up. Despite wobbly knees and rubbery legs, she returned to her guest bed, thoroughly sated. She smirked like a cat that got into the cream, until sleep took her.
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A/N: Sorry for the wait on this chapter, and no promises regarding the ETA of the next. The semester's coming to a close, and things are getting busy. I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter. It contains two different experiments for me in my writing: anal play and multiple parties, both of which I did my best to capture the feel of. Thanks to all my reviewers. Your comments have both reassured me (that I don't suck) and, more importantly, encouraged me to keep experimenting with different aspects (like this chapter). :D
- 7
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- 9
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Solo Shots